


Pokémon: Batman and Robin

by SilentRabbitEars



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Grief, Pokemon, a child dies off screen, listen I just want to write about pokémon, the child is jason
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 22:49:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22980613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilentRabbitEars/pseuds/SilentRabbitEars
Summary: The same nice lady is at the Pokécenter when he brings the Milcery in, Ursula tucked firmly under his arm because he only hadtwo pokéballs.She smiles at him and holds out her hands for Ursula. “Bellyache again?” she asks wryly.“Nope,” Tim replies grimly. He plops Ursula’s luxury ball in her hand. She looks at it, then Ursula, then Tim. Her lips quirk.“Another one, huh?”“By accident! She –” he shakes Ursula, who squeaks cheerfully, “didn’t want to go into her ball, and apparently the Milcery did!”
Comments: 9
Kudos: 38





	1. Jason's Grave

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by me playing Sword and wondering what the Bats' teams would look like. This is the result. Obviously the topic was extremely inspiring to me bc I wrote 7k+ words in literally 10 hours wtf.
> 
> The Plot? It's Batman with Pokémon! This is gonna be a bunch of one-ish shots that are interconnected by the fact that is *literally just Batman with Pokémon.* There's not going to be any order/logic to what gets written/posted when beyond the caprices of my own mind.
> 
> Also? Canon? I don't know her! (seriously what is happening)
> 
> Enjoy.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason's dead.

Bruce trudged through the gentle misting rain across the muddy cemetery, both Coconut and Gray besides him for once. It was early, and besides, for once the paparazzi seemed to have decided to have some sense of decorum. There were never any cameras at Jason’s grave. He turned down the right aisle, a small blue form marking his destination. Walked past his grandparents’ graves. Walked past his parents’ graves. Stopped at his son’s. 

His son’s. His _son’s_ grave. His son’s _grave_. Bruce felt the all familiar nausea rise again, but he shoved it down. Shoved it all deep down. Tried to think past the lump in his throat, the tears suddenly burning in his eyes. Coconut whined. Nudged his hand, just like he had when he was young, and sobbing just one grave over. Bruce swallowed. He wasn’t here to mourn Jason. Not today, not right now. 

“Brontë,” he kept his tone gentle, “Brontë.” The Ralts didn’t look at him. Just kept staring at the grave in front of her. 

Bruce knelt down. “Brontë, we’re all worried for you.” He didn’t touch her like he might’ve once. Didn’t put his hand on her head like he used to. She only ever let him once Jason had felt comfortable with Bruce. Only let him pet her when Jason was there to smile about it. And Jason wasn’t there. The lump in his throat came back, the tears he had just blinked down back again. Jason would never be there again. Brontë would never let any human touch her again. 

He sat back heavily, taking his weight off his knees. He sat there, staring at Jason’s grave, the mist slowly growing into a slight drizzle. 

Coconut climbed into his lap. Gray hefted his bone, rubbing it against his forehead. The green flame sparked, combining with the weak sunlight dipping in and out from behind clouds to bath Jason’s grave in eerie dappled light. 

The small bowl of food Alfred and Oscar had left Brontë the previous night was still full. Bruce knew the bowl they had brought back to wash had been full as well. Months of one of them coming to the cemetery with food every day. Months of them bringing the same food home the next day and leaving out more. 

Bruce had briefly contemplated putting her back in her pokéball but he had dismissed it quickly. He wasn’t strong enough to do that. Jason hadn’t liked pokéballs, even after 3 years of Bruce calmly explaining the science, still seemed to distrust that they kept Pokémon comfortable. He’d almost never kept her in there. Only the few times he’d taken her to school to battle. 

He sighed. Began the same thing he said every time. “Jason wouldn’t want you to be miserable, Brontë. He wanted you to be happy. That’s why he caught you. Why he healed you. Helped you. He helped both of us.” He flattened one hand on the ground, feeling the mud begin to ooze beneath his fingers. His other hand held securely onto Coconut’s ruff, as if he was still a child and he could chase away everything that ever hurt him. Gray rested his head on top of Brontë. She shifted to move her front ridge forward, making herself more comfortable. She’d done the same when Jason had pulled her into his lap and dug his chin into her head. Bruce took a shaky breathe. Let it out slowly. 

“He wouldn’t want us sitting out in the rain, staring at his grave. He’d want us warm and inside. He’d want you comfortable.” No response. “Swoopsy misses you.” Brontë shifted. Bruce closed his eyes. Opened them, looked around again. No cameras. There had never been any cameras. He pulled his hand up from the mud, wiped it on his pants. Reached into the holster on his hip, pulled the only occupied pokéball out. 

“Sqeuuuuuu!!” Swoopsy looped through the air, obviously delighted to be out of the cave. Bruce hadn’t been able to bear taking her out as Batman. She reminded him of Jason, Jason as _Robin_, how Bruce had gotten his son _killed_– Bruce brutally cut that thought off. It wouldn’t help. 

Swoopsy let out another screech of delight as she noticed Brontë. She dove down, and Gray pulled back. Bruce watched as Swoopsy bowled Brontë over and nuzzled at her, Bronte responding for the first time in months. Bruce felt the smallest kernel of hope bloom. 

“Brontë. Swoopsy. Want to go home?” Swoopsy squealed again, her tail wrapping around Brontë, lifting her in the air. She didn’t fight it. Bruce gently pulled Coconut off him and stood shakily. Picked up the bowl of food. “Let’s go back home.” And turned and walked past his son’s grave, his parents’ graves, his grandparents’ graves. Coconut and Gray trotting by his side, Swoopsy and Brontë overhead. The rain began the quicken. Bruce squinted up at the sky. It looked like it would be storming soon. Thankfully, Brontë wouldn’t be out in this one. For the first time in the six months since Jason’s death, she’d be home. 

I can do that for you Jason, Bruce thought. I can take care of Brontë. It’s all I can do for you now. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah, if Bruce had waited literally one more day to break out the big guns (Swoopsy and Gray) Brontë still would’ve been keeping her vigil at Jason’s grave when he dug himself out and could’ve teleported him right to the Manor in about 2 seconds. How unfortunate 
> 
> The run-down:  
Coconut – Alolan vulpix, Bruce has had him since he was a child  
Gray – Alolan Marowak, Bruce picked him up as a Cubone on his travels (wow they had so much in common!) and he evolved in …. Alola? Let’s say on an island at night Named for the Gray Ghost bc I’m a SUCKER  
Brontë – SHINY (alt. color) RALTS Jason found her injured on the grounds and keeping her was the first thing he ever asked for. She’s named for all the sisters bc Jason couldn’t pick a favorite  
Swoopsy – a Swoobat, part of the 200 odd ‘bats (zubat, golbat, crobat, woobat, swoobat) that live in the cave – about two dozen are “com-BATS” (hahahaha) that Batman/Robin/Nightwing/etc all can use. Swoopsy was Jason’s favorite.  
Oscar – one of Alfred’s Pokémon, a male Indeedee
> 
> Batman’s rules prevent recognizable Pokémon from being used in the field, hence the ‘bats. Brontë and Coconut stay home at night, and Gray only ever goes out with Batman. He broke so many of his rules to get Brontë to come home


	2. Tim and his motley crew of dumpster pokémon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim's gonna fill the void in his heart with equally abandoned pokémon and they're gonna be a family, damnit.

Tim’s Rotom wasn’t technically his Rotom. It was his father’s. And it was supposed to live in the refrigerator and order food so no one ever had to think about groceries. And when his parents were home, it did. But his parents were hardly ever home. And Tim was lonely. His Indeedee, Miss Mac (who was technically his mother’s Indeedee that she had purchased before Tim even could walk) was excellent as care-taking, but not at being a friend. But it was alright. He had the best technology and all the books he could want. He barely even minded that the librarians would look at him and Miss Mac with sad eyes every time they came in, or that even the other children with Pokémon minders still had their parents with them sometimes. It didn’t really matter. He was _self-sufficient_. At most things at least. And Miss Mac took care of the rest. Except for company. Which was funny because that’s what most people had Pokémon for. And so Tim decided that’s what Frost Rotom was for. It took several months to coax it out of the Fridge and into a tiny little lightbulb Tim had taken from one of the lamps, but he succeeded. And was promptly _delighted_. Bulb Rotom could go with him _everywhere_. And soon enough, it was willing to hop in and out of anything with electricity, always coming back to the little bulb that Tim had put on a chain around his neck in the end. It sparked sometimes and Tim thought the tingly feeling he got was probably what love felt like. It was completely understandable why people had Pokémon for friends now! 

* * *

Tim and Rotom started going out after dark when Tim was 8. He was reasonably sure that that as a good age for adventures at the time. All the characters in books and shows he watched were around this age, and no one ever seems too fussed about them. And he always has Rotom with him! So really, there’s no possible way to be safer. Rotom would zap or hex anyone or anything that tried to hurt Tim. So he takes his camera and heads out into Gotham because where else is he suppose to go? Next door to Wayne Manor? Boring! Gotham is the place to be! There are all sorts of interesting Pokémon and people there, and most importantly, there’s _Batman_ and _Robin_. 

* * *

“Oh, fudge –” Tim is trying to scrape whatever the disgusting sludge now attached to his shoe off on the lower rung of the fire escape, but it isn’t really working. Miss Mac is going to _kill_ him if he tracks mysterious sludge all over the carpet again. He keeps scraping. Rotom is cheerfully doing loops around his head, so it’s not like he has to pay attention. It’ll warn him if something’s about to go wrong. 

Rotom starts buzzing and twirling by his head. It’s not very loud though, so he ignores it. Last time, it just wanted to pointed out a pidgey, and honestly, he’s seen enough of those. Rotom starts buzzing louder and sparking. Tim sighs. _If it’s another normal type that I have 5 million pictures of already, I’m gonna stuff Rotom into a flip phone._ He turns his head to look at it, distinctly unenthused. It’s been a long night. “What.” 

Rotom chirps and buzzes off towards the dumpster further down the alley. _Dear god, please don’t let it be a body again. Or at least a relatively fresh one this time._ Tim follows, ignoring the fact he’s trudging through more mysterious sludge, dirtying up what little of his shoes he’s cleaned. Even an old decaying body, as stinky as it would be, would be interesting enough to salvage the night. 

Rotom’s not going into the dumpster though, just twirling behind it, letting off flashes of light. Something is whining quietly, Tim realizes as he gets closer. He moves slowly, and hefts up his camera. _Please be something interesting and non-lethal._

He peers around the edge of the dumpster, to the ground where the sound is coming from. Rotom is working itself up into a tizzy, which isn’t going to help, so Tim hisses at it to slow down. It does not. Tim squeezes his eyes close. After two years, he’s begun to realize why most people don’t give children Pokémon until they’re at least 10, and only weak ones then. He opens his eyes again and looks down again. The whine has stopped but something is moving from out of a pile of cardboard and paper now. It’s…purple? But not furry, so not a Rattata. The skin is smooth and a little scaly. There’s a white jagged streak down its forehead. Tiny angry eyes glare up at him. Tim stares. It sticks its tongue out at him. _What._

“What.” Rotom twirls and sparks. The purple lizard thing whines and sparks too, right on top of the pile of paper. Tim feels his heart leap into his mouth, but it’s Gotham. The paper is soaked through. Nothing happens. It whines again and keeps glaring at him. It’s kind of cute. It looks a little like a baby, a purple, glare-y baby. Tim kinda wants it. 

He squats down next to it. Tries to smile reassuringly, just like he’s seen the first Robin do a hundred times. It sticks its tongue out at him again. Tim feels his heart melt a little. “Awww, don’t worry. You don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to. You can come home with us?” It whines a little and lifts it’s stubby arms up. Tim has to stop himself from cooing. It’s just so cute. He pulls his camera off and quickly puts it in the case at his side. The he reaches down and scoops up the baby lizard and tucks it against his chest. It’s a little heavy, but it nuzzles against him and Tim suddenly doesn’t care. He turns around and heads towards the street. “C’mon Rotom. Call one of the cabs for me, please.” Rotom buzzes and zips into his phone. 

Tim’s hands and arms, everywhere his skin is touching the lizard, are tingling. He bites his lip to keep from smiling. This is definitely what love has to feel like. 

* * *

Miss Mac lets him keep the lizard baby, of course she does. She has Rotom get in the car and drive them to a Pokécenter even, which is how Tim learns it’s called a Toxel and it’s a boy. It’ll evolve into a much bigger Pokémon, the nice lady at the counter warns him. He’s says that’s alright, he’s got a big yard. Miss Mac nods. The lady smiles and offers to help register it for him. She asks if Tim knows what he wants to call it. Tim gnaws on his lip and thinks about Batman and Robin, the ghostly Marowak Gray, and all the ‘bats. Thinks about Bruce Wayne and Coconut, and Dick Grayson and Starlight and Skarn, and Jason Todd and Brontë. He names it Austen. 

* * *

With Austen and Rotom, Tim is even less worried about going out. Austen listens to him almost always, and he’s strong. Tim signed up for Pokémon battle classes and Austen _loves_ it. So really, now Tim is prepared for anything, basically. 

Tim is not prepared for rogue jigglypuffs. 

* * *

Miss Mac lets him keep the Jigglypuff that had fallen asleep on top of him and Austen instead of running off with the ones that had knocked them out to begin with. 

The same lady at the Pokécenter does its check-up and helps him register it. He calls it Ursula. Robin had been reading _The Tombs of Atuan_ during breaks in patrol last week. 

* * *

Tim finds his Milcery behind a semi-successful bakery in the Bowery. They’ve been leaving out cream and milk and baked goods for weeks to tempt some Alcremies to come. He knows they were successful because there are now signs advertising their new specialty pastries and two Alcremies, one matcha cream, the other caramel swirl, floating around the bakers inside when he walks by at 4am. Unfortunate. He and Ursula had enjoyed the treats. Austen had not, preferring the noodles that Tim would buy for him to keep him quiet when he whined loudly. Austen only ever whined when Tim was out in Gotham, so he was relatively sure that he did it solely to get noodles. 

Ursula had already started to float down alley to the back of the bakery though, so Tim sighed and followed. They might still be leaving something out to tempt another Alcremie, Tim reasoned. Couldn’t hurt to check. 

There were still treats, which Ursula was already devouring, but there wasn’t an Alcremie. There was a tiny, itsy-bitsy Milcery floating around Ursula in confusion. 

“Ursula! Leave some for the Milcery! That’s who they’ve left it out for!” Ursula paused in stuffing her face, then slowly took a partially eaten Danish out of her mouth and put it back on the already empty plate. Milcery trilled delightedly. Tim slaps his hand to his forehead. 

“C’mon, Ursula. Let’s go already – Miss Mac will have breakfast for us at the house – I’m sure she’ll make danishes if you want them.” Rotom buzzes twice. “Or Rotom will order some for you. C’mon!” Austen huffs and tugs at Tim’s pant leg. He reaches down and scoops him up. Austen smacks him in the face. Tim sighs as best he can with his cheeks now tingling and numb, and reaches towards his belt. “Okay, okay, pokéball it is.” He squints over to where Ursula is still attempting to swallow all the pastries she’d stuffed into her mouth in one go. He sighs again. “For both of you, I guess.” He clicks Austen’s luxury ball once and Austen zips inside. He tucks it away and snags Ursula’s luxury ball, clicks it, and gently lobs it towards her. 

The Milcery zips inside. Ursula glances up, notices the absence of the Milcery, and promptly picks up the half-eaten Danish she’d put back on the plate and stuffs it in her mouth. 

“Fuck.” 

* * *

The same nice lady is at the Pokécenter when he brings the Milcery in, Ursula tucked firmly under his arm because he only had _two pokéballs._

She smiles at him and holds out her hands for Ursula. “Bellyache again?” she asks wryly. 

“Nope,” Tim replies grimly. He plops Ursula’s luxury ball in her hand. She looks at it, then Ursula, then Tim. Her lips quirk. 

“Another one, huh?” 

“By accident! She –” he shakes Ursula, who squeaks cheerfully, “didn’t want to go into her ball, and apparently the Milcery did!” 

“Well, there are certainly worse Pokémon to accidently catch. We can always tag and release or you can give her up for adoption if you don’t want her. There are plenty of people who would love a Milcery.” 

Tim bit his lip. “Can you make sure she’s okay before I decide?” 

The lady smiled at him. “Of course, honey. Let me recalibrate the ball and we’ll check up on her.” 

Tim watched as she began typing rapidly into the computer and wondered how Batman healed his Pokémon. He would have his own private set-up, Tim was sure. 

“It looks like she’s just fine, though maybe on the smaller side. Wanna let her out, see what she’s like?” 

Tim nodded and she handed the pokéball back to him. He clicked the top, and Milcery zipped out. She trilled as she twirled around his head, her droplets plopping up and down even faster than he remembered from before. She also seemed even tinier. 

Ursula looked delighted and waved her arms and the Milcery floated down to her. They started chirping at each other and Ursula wiggled out from under Tim’s arm and started twirling around in the air with the Milcery. 

Tim looked back up at the lady, who was smiling gently. He sighed, trying to sound put-upon. Judging from the increase in her smile, it didn’t work. “I guess she’s got to stay now. Ursula would never forgive me if she didn’t.” He sighed again. He was doing a lot of that lately. “Can I get another ball for Ursula?” 

He left the Pokécenter with a Moon ball for Ursula, a pamphlet telling him everything he’d need to know about all of Milcery’s possible evolutions, and an extra luxury ball “just in case.” 

He’d decide to wait on a name till she evolved. What if he gave her one that didn’t work with she became? He’d feel awful then. 

* * *

The “just in case” luxury ball got used way too soon, as far as Tim was concerned. What twelve-year old needed four pokémon? Not Tim! But here he was, behind a dumpster _again_ trying to coax a finicky Morgrem into taking a treat from him. Which apparently meant an offer of eternal caretaking. Milcery was cheerfully swirling about his head, Ursula was crooning some soft tune, Rotom humming comfortingly, and Austen, well, he wasn’t being hostile at least. 

The Morgrem was definitely suspicious of people, and if Austen wasn’t at his knees and Ursula floating about, Tim might have been nervous. As it was, he was just impatient. The Morgrem obviously didn’t want to keep scrounging out of the garbage (Tim had a hilarious photo its face right after it tried eating some old bread out of a garbage bag spilled out on the ground next to the dumpster). 

“C’mon,” Tim said soothingly, “it’s delicious and nutritious! Specially blended for fairy types – Ursula and Milcery love them!” Morgrem sniffed at Tim and peered suspiciously up at Ursula. Ursula looked back. Then she swooped down, and before Tim could yank his hand back, snatched the treat. Tim sighed. Pulled out another one and offered it again. This time the Morgrem took it. 

And he took the next one, and the next one, until Tim’s bag of treats was empty. 

Tim brushed his hands off and stood up from where he was crouching down in the alley. “Well, that’s all I’ve got. Sorry.” He smiled softly at the Morgrem. It grinned back. Raised its arm and wrapped it’s long fingers around one of the pokéballs attached to the holster he’d finally talked Miss Mac into getting him. “Oh!” He peered down at the Morgrem. “Are you sure? It’ll be very different.” The Morgrem tugged at the pokéball insistently. “Well, okay, but that’s Ursula’s moon ball. You’re gonna be in this one, okay?” He held out the extra luxury ball. The Morgrem grinned even wider. 

Tim had snapped a picture of Robin scribbling notes on _The Lottery_ just before he’d spotted the Morgrem trying scrape off mold from some berries in the alley below him. He named him Jackson. 

He left the Pokécenter with one more luxury ball, despite his insistence that he wouldn’t need it. 

* * *

And he didn’t need it. Not for another five years. 

* * *

“Every ruler of the League has used a dragon-type, my dear detective. It is our way. No one will respect you without it, not even with my obvious favor,” Ra’s purred. 

Tim gritted his teeth. For almost 3 years, he’d avoided accepting any of the pokémon Ra’s had tried to give him. Didn’t touch the pokéballs, sent the eggs back on their own private jets, ignored the honestly very powerful pokémon that had been paraded in front of him. Wanted nothing to do with what Ra’s wanted him to be, to have. And now it was all for nothing. No, not for nothing. For Bruce. 

“Fine,” he snapped. “Fine. I’ll catch one of the League’s dragon pokémon.” Ra’s smiled. Tim felt a shiver run down his spine, but refused to react in any way Ra’s could see. 

“Excellent choice, my dear. Let us go to the breeding grounds.” Tim ground his teeth together and tried to ignore the fact Ra’s had left off the detective this time. 

Tim followed Ra’s down the long halls, ignoring the silent lines of ninjas following them. Austen’s blue spikes gave off a familiar comforting glow to his left and his quiet strumming meshed perfectly with Rotom’s quiet buzz in his ear. To his right, all he could see of Jackson was his face and red patches, his dark hair blending into the shadowy recesses of the base, just like Cortado’s coffee cream coloring blended into the dry desert above. Ursula floated idly over Cortado’s head, casually bumping between Jackson’s and Austen’s heads. Tim tried not to pay attention to Ra’s Hydreigon behind them. It was taller than Austen, who was taller than _Tim._

“We’ve arrived,” Ra’s smooth voice interrupted Tim’s musings about the logistics of having three heads. Tim looked at the door in front of them. It looked like every other door they had passed. Ra’s raised his hands dramatically. Tim resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Austen’s strumming immediately grew louder and Tim turned around to a ninja carrying a tray awkwardly trying to get past his pokémon. Tim did roll his eyes this time. 

“Austen, move.” Austen moved about an inch closer to Jackson and kept strumming. The ninja trembled slightly as they tried get past while avoiding being electrocuted or poisoned. Ra’s smiled bemusedly. 

“The Pokéballs.” Tim looked down at the tray. On it were five balls he recognized as being the League balls meant for the dragon types. They were just like the ones Ra’s had been offering him for years. Tim wrinkled his nose slightly. 

“I’ve got my own,” he said calmly, resting his hand on the only unclaimed pokéball in the holster on his hip. 

Ra’s raised an eyebrow. “Just one? Dragons are notoriously difficult to catch, Timothy. You would be wise to accept these.” 

“No thanks. If I can’t get it with this one….well,” Tim shrugs. 

“Very well. Traditionally, only one other pokémon is allowed.” His eyes rove across Tim’s team. 

“That’s fine. But you’ll just have to trust that I’ll keep them in their pokéballs, because they aren’t going anywhere without me.” 

Ra’s smile grew. “Of course I trust you, my dear.” No detective _again._

“Rotom, out.” It buzzed concernedly, but hopped out of the comm, leaving it dead in his ear. Austen’s strumming grew even louder. Tim bit back a grimace. He sent Austen a warning glance, and then frowned at Jackson too, just for good measure. He flicked four balls in the air, watched as the four zipped in. He tucked the balls back into the holster. The tunnel felt unnaturally quiet without Austen’s bass. Cortado trilled softly. 

“Ah,” Tim could hear the slight contempt and disgust in Ra’s voice. The Rotom was a fact of modern life, not worth a mention, even if Tim’s was more versatile than most. A Grimmsnarl and Toxtricity were respectable, impressive even. A Jigglypuff, less so, but at least it had a long history, carved in ruins and noted in court records. An Alcremie was, as Damian had so thoughtfully sneered more than once, “a cook’s tool.” The same thought was clearly reflected in Ra’s voice as he finished his sentence, “you’ve selected the…this one.” 

“Her name is Cortado,” Tim said helpfully. 

Ra’s mouth thinned slightly. “Charming. I know how much you enjoy your coffee.” 

“Yup.” _And how much I enjoyed completely wiping the floor with Damian using just her,_ Tim thought with no small amount of glee. 

“Well, one choice is made.” Ra’s turned towards the door. “Now, for the next.” He reached out and gently pulled the door open. A warm breeze blew fresh air into Tim’s face. He didn’t paused in walking through and up the quickly sloping path into the night air. 

* * *

Tim briefly regretted not accepting the dragon balls when they stumbled on the nest of dreepies. He would’ve killed (well, seriously maimed) to see Damian’s face if he came back to Gotham with not only a dragon-type league Pokémon, an honor reserved for al Ghul’s and very high ranking league members, but one of the same pokémon Damian had, in the exact same ball. 

A Dreepy would be an extra insult, Tim was sure. Damian kept his Deino and Jangmo-o in league dragon balls as well, but his Dreepy had been a gift from Talia, hatched from an egg from her very own Dragapult, especially meant to mark the continuation of his training with Bruce. Or so Damian had said, loudly, many, many times. Jason also had a dreepy, from Talia as well, Tim assumed, as Damian grudgingly admitted it was a “superior specimen” almost on level with his own. Although, according to Steph (…and Dick), Jason’s was a Drakloak now. Tim wouldn’t know. Jason had almost never sent out his Dreepy or Drakloak or whichever it was when battling Tim. He kept his Mightyena out of it too, usually sending his Cinderace or Aron, or even his Arbok. 

Jason might be one of the few people that recognized that Cortado and Ursula were actually dangerous. He was certainly the only one with league pokémon that did, Tim mused as he slowly backed away from the dreepy nest. Jason was also the only one with league pokémon who had managed to defeat him in a fair fight. Not that most of their fights had been fair, (for one, Jason had _ seven_ pokémon now, and for a second, he was at least a foot taller and about 100 pounds heavier) but still. 

Tim squinted up into the mountains craning his head back. He was relatively sure there was a Drampa slowly winding its way down which could be cool, but walking that far, uphill, would be a real pain. He turned around and shuffled through over the grassy hills towards the grove of trees that he was fairly certain were hiding a river, or at least a small lake. Coming out with a Goomy would definitely piss Ra’s off, which was a point in its favor, and eventually having a Sliggoo would probably be just fine. 

He had reached the edge of the trees now, and he breathed in deeply. There was definitely water here, somewhere. Time to find a Goomy and then get the hell out. 

Tim crept through the trees, trying not to enjoy the fact that he almost certainly wasn’t going to run into random-ass bug pokémon. Just random-ass dragon Pokémon. There were splashes off in the distance, and so Tim turned in that direction, Cortado silently following. 

He came out onto a relatively shallow pool, smooth and clear water surrounded by trees, except for the small stream where the water slowly trickled into the pond. Tim looked over the trees, following its path in his mind, and decided that it probably came from melted snow in the mountains. If he wasn’t successful here, he could follow it up. No doubt something interesting would pop up. 

He scanned the lake. There were multiple pale lumps splashing about in the shore, some larger than others. Goomies and Sliggoos, Tim noted. He could just catch a Sliggoo now, not have to worry about leveling it up, sure it would no doubt make Ra’s happier than a Goomy, but you couldn’t have it all – Tim felt his thoughts freeze and could almost hear the record scratch in his mind as some of the horns he’d assumed belonged to Sliggoos suddenly rose above the water far more than he thought they would. Way, way, way more. Holy shit. A Goodra. He glanced down at Cortado. She trilled. “No way to find out unless we ask. Think they’ll like treats?” Cortado trilled again, and began picking her way down the shore towards the dragons. Tim followed, digging around in his pockets for the generic brand treats he always kept on him. He had a feeling the fairy blend wouldn’t go over so well. 

“Hello, how are you guys tonight?” Tim tried for as much confidence he could get into his voice without turning it fake. Every single Goomy, Sliggoo, and the Goodra stared at him blankly. “Er, right, um…muh-habeen?” Cortado chirped. The dragons burbled back. Tim felt slightly relieved. He squatted and held out his hand towards the nearest Goomy, a few treats resting in his palm. “Uh..tau-uh-mun…” he trailed off weakly. “Shit, um” he wracked his mind “bon-bon? Hal-uh-why-et-kun?” There. That sounded relatively close to…his memory at least. The Goomy didn’t seem to care though. The Goodra, on the other hand. Was now sloshing towards him. 

Tim glanced around for Cortado. She was sharing her cream with a small group of Sliggoos. Great. Well, she would avenge him at least. 

The Goodra was right next to him. It was so tall. Almost a foot taller than him. It gurgled. Tim gulped. “Hal-uh-why-et-kun?” He offered the treats again. It bent down and inspected them. Reached out and scooped one up. Carefully put the treat in its mouth. Tim held his breath. He couldn’t read its expression at all. It gurgled again, louder. The Goomies nearby perked up. It took another treat, its paw leaving a slimy trail across his palm. Yuck, thought Tim in the back of his mind. He had not factored in slime when deciding which Pokémon he was gonna get. 

He felt something squish against his left calf and looked down. He was surrounded by Goomies. They started bumping up against him, feeling disturbingly like water balloons that someone had sneezed all over. Okay, maybe he could understand why so few people chose to go after a Goomy when they were allowed a league dragon. 

He carefully scattered the treats into the water around him, in the hopes that the Goomies would stop mobbing him and thankfully, it worked. He peered down at them as they slurped at the treats floating on surface of the water. They looked cute, but also like he never wanted one to touch him again. But still. He looked up at the Goodra, which was still watching him. He slowly detached the pokéball and held it out. “I don’t suppose any of you want to go an adventure, do you?” The Goodra let out a gurgle that was hmmm threatening, so Tim tucked the pokéball back into the holster and held up his empty hands. “Yeah, I wouldn’t want to leave either. You guys have a pretty sweet gig.” He scattered more treats around and slogs his way back to the shore. “Cortado. Let’s go!” 

Up the river it then. He grimaced. He didn’t want to walk uphill. He’d walked enough. He glanced at Cortado. She blinked back. “If I take a nap, will you give me coffee?” She smiled and trilled. He settled down in a patch of grass near an old log. Good enough for a catnap. “Great. If anything tries to hurt us, just, you know, kill it haha.” Cortado trilled again and waved her arm. Tim fist bumped her and leaned back, wondering if she’d believe him faking a nap. Probably not. 

* * *

It was fucking pre-dawn when Cortado decided to wake him up. “What the fuck, I said _nap_, jesus Christ, not a full eight hours.” Cortado bubbled next to him, her warm arm gently brushing back his hair. It felt nice. Tim sighed and took the cup of coffee cream she gave him. “Fine, you’re still my favorite. Don’t tell the others.” 

He squinted out over the lake. The Goomy were gone, and the slowly rising sun had yet to peek out over the mountains. The sky was lit up with the brilliant colors of sunrise, but further up, stars still twinkled. “It’s nice to not have so much air pollution, huh?” Cortado stroked his forehead again. He pulled a couple of treats out for her and they sat in silence for a few minutes, watching the horizon behind the mountains slowly light up. 

And, Tim realized, a group of flying somethings slowly make their way to the pond. There was a rising hum in the air that half reminded him of Ursula. He watched as clouds slowly separated and pieces began to float down to the water. He narrowed his eyes. There were some pretty big clouds moving in pretty unnatural ways actually, but they didn’t float down like the smaller pieces, just stayed up in the air. Fine. 

He sat still and watched as they spiraled closer and closer. Close enough he could tell what they were. Swablus and Altarias. He looked back up to the clouds and frowned. Maybe it was a mixed flock, other dragon pokémon mixed in. There was no way any of them were that big, unless there was some wishiwashi situation going on. “A mystery I’m not going to solve today,” Tim muttered as he pushed himself up off the ground. He bent back down and scooped Cortado up. “C’mon, let’s go get a cloud bird.” 

He didn’t bother with stealth or English this time. “Muh-habeen!” He stretched out his hand, full of flying blend treats, leftover from the ‘bats and Dick’s – nope, cut that line of thought off right now, Tim. Focus on the clouds. “Hal-uh-why-et-kun?” A few Swablus chirped and drifted over, pecking at his hand. He dumped more in. “Hal-uh-why-et-kun?” A few of the Altarias wondered over. Perfect. He nudged Cortado. She yawned. And poured some cream out. “Cortado, no, we’re going to battle one of them –” but the Swablus and Altarias not getting treats from Tim were already swarming Cortado, most of the making peculiar noises as they tried coffee for the what Tim could only assume was the first time. 

Tim sighed. Neither of them were at their best in the morning. Well, he thought surveying the few who didn’t scatter back across the pond after they’d had their treat, might as well give it a shot. He pulled the pokéball out of the holster and held it up. “Anybody up for an adventure?” No response. Tim takes a deep breath and focused. He really, really should have done Rosetta Stone or something before coming out here. Or at least reviewed the basics on the plane. 

He holds up the pokéball again. “Moo-jez-uh-fa?” That gets something, but unfortunately it’s the two Swablus darting away. He looks down at the remaining Altaria. It’s nuzzling Cortado. He squats down. Clears his throat. Reaches out with his other hand and holds it steady a few inches away. The Altaria turns, chirps, then headbutts his hand like Alfred the glameow sometimes does. Tim scratches under its chin and strokes back the long head feathers. He offers the pokéball again. “Moo-jez-uh-fa?” The Altaria coos and headbutts the pokéball. “I’m gonna take that as a yes,” Tim tells her. 

* * *

It takes forever to find the door again, even with the Altaria swooping back and forth across the valley. Of course, Tim isn’t really sure if he managed to actually convey what they needed to find, but whatever. Rotom can translate soon. 

They don’t actually find the door. A troop of ninjas find them. Same difference. Tim whistles the Altaria down, puts her in her ball before he heads back into the base. He’s not sure how she’ll be in tunnels. Hopefully Ra’s will be in one of the larger rooms or something when he demands proof of Tim’s dragon mastery or whatever. Tim gnawed on his lip as he followed the ninjas through identical hallways. Hopefully Ra’s wouldn’t want Tim to battle with the Altaria. He had no idea what she could do considering he’d bribed her with treats, an Alcremie’s coffee cream, and the promise of what was hopefully adventure. 

They turned into the throne room. Tim felt slightly relieved for the first time ever in this room. 

“Well, my dear Timothy, from dusk until dawn, you have stalked the dragons’ land. How did you fare? Did you find what you sought?” 

Yes, thought Tim, but it was too slimy to capture even to spite you. “I have,” he said out loud. 

“Good. Show us what makes you worthy to lead, to follow in my footsteps.” Tim felt a little sick, but he shoved it down. Bruce, he reminded himself. Bruce. 

He pulled all five of the occupied balls out of his holster, and tossed them all up. Please don’t let them attack each other, he prayed to whoever was listening. 

Click. Zip. 

Click. Zip.

Click. Zip.

Click. Zip.

Click. Zip. 

Instantly, Rotom’s buzz filled Tim’s ear as he zipped back into the comm, Austen’s bass filled the room, Jackson’s roar and Cortado’s trill punctuated a single beat together, Ursula’s gentle croon lilted in and out, and – there was a lump in Tim’s throat suddenly – the Altaria’s hum echoed off the walls, in perfect tune with all the others. 

Ra’s smiled. 

“Magnificent. The symphony of a true intellect. What will you call her?” 

Tim’s mind went completely blank. Every single half-decent name he’d ever known fled the premise. What. All he could think of were idiotic ones, like Blue and Cloudy. That and how the last time he’d seen Jason that hadn't been someone fighting, he’d been reading a beat-up copy of Much Ado about Nothing on a stakeout. Anything else, Tim rationalized to himself. You aren’t fucking eleven anymore. But he couldn’t think of anything else. And like fuck he was gonna call the one Pokémon that even Damian would respect him for Cloudy. 

“Her name is Beatrice. Now it’s time for you to keep your promises.” 

* * *

Jackson’s snarl rippled through the air, abrasively out of tune with Austen’s bass, which was loud and frantic. Probably because Jason’s Cinderace had just kicked the shit out of him. 

The damn thing is too fast, Tim thought irritated. Jason wasn’t even trying hard, Brontë cheerfully toying with Jackson, easily dodging his swings and slashing at his heels. 

He probably thinks this is a casual little battle, just a bit of fun, Tim thought bitterly. Why take Tim seriously? No one else in the family did and Jason had seemed to have joined in on that little plan as soon as he started hanging out with Dick again. Dicks. 

“Boom!” Tim lobbed the ball before he even said the codename, but Austen knew to dodge back the moment he heard the swish. Jason grinned lazily at him from the opposite ledge where he was poking at what looked like a slash wound from earlier in the night, Swoopsy cooing next to him. Austen had hit Jason and his whole team with a boomburst to open and knocked them all across the roof, so there were streaks of his blood across the battlefield. In retrospect, that was probably why the Cinderace had been actively trying to _murder_ Austen for the last five minutes despite Jason only half-way paying attention. Whatever. Jason was fine. 

“Fluffy! Let’s go!” Tim could see Jason refocus, obviously thrown off. Ha. Haven’t been keep track of my team, have you? Tim gave him a tight lipped smile as Beatrice zipped out onto the roof. This is what Jason gets for not letting Tim know he was back planet-side and trying to brush him off when he tracked Jason down. There were things to discuss, damnit. 

He takes a great deal of satisfaction from Jason’s very carefully blank look at the Altaria now in front of him. She is, Tim thinks fondly, absolutely gorgeous. He can see Jason darting glances towards Tim’s hand, trying to get a look at the ball in it, as he straightens up. Dumbass. Tim rolls his eyes. 

“Somebody failed to mention he took a little trip to the garden of Eden, huh.” Jason’s voice is pointedly casual. 

“Well, somebody else failed to mention they were back on the planet, so let’s call it even,” Tim grinds out. “Fluffy, use – Fluffy? Fluffy?” Beatrice is not paying attention to him at all, snuffling the ground instead. “Fluffy!” 

“Aw, is someone having control issues? Cute. Brontë, stop flirting – _we’re_ finally gonna trash _his_ dragon for once – dazzling gle— ewwww.” Jason’s nose is wrinkled up now. “Replacement, tell your Altaria to stop drinking my blood, gross.” 

“What? Fluffy!” Beatrice turns and Tim realizes what Jason meant. There’s a long smear of what can only be his blood all over one side of Beatrice’s face. “God, that’s disgusting, what are you even –”

She keens loudly, warbling what would probably be a beautiful tune _if she weren’t covered in blood._ Tim sighs. Sometimes she wants to sing, not fight and that’s fine, really. Cortado was always ready to battle. Probably all the caffeine. Jason lets out a strangled sounding noise from across the roof. “What now—” Beatrice was glittering. 

Beatrice was glittering. Her song began to crescendo. Jason put his Cinderace back in its ball without taking his eyes off Beatrice. Brontë was hanging off Jackson’s leg and neither of them were moving. Because Beatrice, an Altaria, was glittering like a Swablu about to turn into an Altaria. What. 

A small part of Tim vaguely remembered the massive shapes that had crossed the briefly out the clouds with the rest of Beatrice’s flock before he had caught her. He’d assumed it was a different dragon, or his half asleep brain misinterpreting. He gulped. What sort of Pokémon needed _blood_ to evolve? No wonder Ra’s had looked so pleased. 

The light grew blinding, and Tim shielded his eyes, trying not to look away. He didn’t succeed. 

Beatrice cooed softly, a noise Tim had heard her make a hundred times, but somehow deeper, reverberating more strongly in his bones. Which made sense since she was now almost double her size, her fluff taken up to the next level. Tim stared. Jason stared. And then he went for his holster. Great. 

“Really? This” Tim gestured violently “just happened, and now you’re ready to battle all of a sudden –”

Jason’s Dreepy had evolved into a Drakloak, Tim thought blankly, because it was a _Dragapult._ Holy shit. Dragapults were huge. Beatrice was double her normal size, but she still had nothing on the Dragapult. It was easily ten feet, possibly longer because its tail faded into nothingness, but it kept shifting where the nothingness began. 

The Dragapult looked at Beatrice. And then it cooed. Jason jerked, a funny look coming over his face. Tim ignored him in favor of staring at the Dragapult some more. And then staring back at Beatrice, who had tilted her head and cooed back. At least the dragons were getting along. 

Tim was vaguely aware Brontë and Jackson had started fighting again, despite neither Jason or Tim saying anything. Jason still had the funny look on his face. Right. Tim felt exceedingly awkward now. This was not how Pokémon battles were meant to go. Then Tim had a thought. 

“I’m gonna call for Robin.” Jason immediately directed his funny look at Tim. 

“What the fuck, why? Literally only one of your Pokémon are down, you don’t need any fucking back-up.” 

“Of course not, but I hadn’t heard it was a Dragapult now” he gestures towards said Pokémon, blithely ignoring Jason’s muttered “he” “which means probably Robin hasn’t either, and he definitely hasn’t seen” Tim gestures towards Beatrice “whatever just happened to her –”

“He definitely has. It’s just mega-evolution, it’ll wear off after a few hours.” 

“What?” 

“What.” 

“How did you know that? Why didn’t I know that?” 

“I don’t know, Tim,” Jason said sweetly. “Why don’t you direct your questions towards whoever let you into Eden, cuz I get all my answers from Talia.” 

Tim bit his lip to keep from shouting at Jason. Jackson was still snarling at Brontë, and the dragons were still cooing. 

“—Anyways, he’s gonna lose his shit. He still has a dreepy.” Tim pulled back up the feeling of delight he felt just a few seconds ago. 

“…pretty sure he’s got more than just his dreepy, Replacement.” Jason looks almost out of his depth, clearly not seeing what Tim is. Tim savors the feeling. 

“No, Hood. His dreepy is still _a dreepy_.”

“Oh.” Jason looked at his Dragapult and then at Beatrice and grins slowly. “Yeah, we’d better call Robin.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, Tim, you tiny touch deprived dumbass. That’s what mild electric paralysis feels like, not love.
> 
> The DRAGON balls I am so sorry I could’ve called ‘em monster balls but I forgot those existed until I was proofreading but then I kinda liked dragon ball (z) so it stays!!
> 
> Tim is Very Badly trying to say hello, food, candy, and adventure in Arabic. 
> 
> Quick run-down in case y’all missed any hints  
Rotom – it’s a Rotom!  
Miss Mac – female Indeedee THANK GOD these exist bc I would’ve died if I had to put M. Mime in this fic  
Austen – a lonely natured Toxel that evolves into a laid-back Toxtricity - named for Jane Austen  
Ursula – le Classique Jigglypuff – named after Ursula K Le Guin  
Cortado – a tiny Milcery that evolves into a coffee cream Alcremie. What’s that? Coffee cream isn’t one of the 64 variations of canon Alcremie? Sounds fake. You get a coffee cream Alcremie by giving them a sweet (a berry sweet in this case bc Tim wanted their eyes to match) and then both of you simultaneously shot gunning expresso and spin in whichever direction feels right until you get distracted by something else #hacked!  
Jackson – a Morgrem that evolves into a Grimmsnarl -named for Shirley Jackson, if you went to school in the US, you’ve probably read one of her short stories (and it’s probably the lottery, which my school read in SEVENTH GRADE wtf)  
Beatrice – Altaria, and yes this one can Mega evolve, so YES technically even Tim’s dragon Pokémon is sometimes a fairy type too. How you may ask? Lazarus pit! Jason’s blood??? Listen I’m just making shit up now. Don’t ask questions. Obviously named for the female lead in Much Ado About Nothing
> 
> yes, Tim has named the majority of his Pokémon based off of what book Jason was reading the last time he saw him. There is no part of Tim’s life that isn’t tied up with Batman and Robin, and specifically, His Robin


	3. A Man and Five Pokémon walk into a Bludhaven diner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahaha the world is fucked rn – I’m in Boston, so it’s uhhh Not Good. Very Not Good. I work at a grocery store, so I’ve been going to work during this (and will continue to until I get sick rip –) and let me just say: People can be incredibly kind, but also incredibly cruel. Please don’t yell at retail workers. I hope everyone is staying as safe and healthy as possible. I’m writing in an attempt to take my mind off everything, and it did work for a few hours! So hopefully here’s some Pokémon/Batman fun that will bring you a little joy as well. And thank you all for the lovely comments!!! They made me smile :D I’m glad people are enjoying this little project.

Dick was trying to ignore the man who’d just entered the diner. Which was likely to be difficult, considering there weren’t a lot of reasons for him to even be in this city besides Dick. 

It was also going to be difficult because he had five different pokémon out of their balls and was now loudly arguing with the waitress about it. Literally everyone was watching, except Dick. 

Dick felt Swoopsy’s tail bump his head. He ignored it. He felt a distinct chill as what felt like a raw squash bump his head. He ignored it. Swoopsy’s fat little feet kick slightly at his head before digging themselves in, as she settled on top of his head. Dick gritted his teeth. 

Jason plops down in the booth across from him. 

“You’ve been teaching her bad habits.” 

“Good habits, dickface. She’s obscuring your profile to protect your identity.” Jason waves towards the waitress he’d just been arguing with. “Can we get a baby chair please?” 

She slams it down at the end of the table and gives Jason a death glare. Jason ignores it. “Thanks. What’s good here?” 

“Nothing,” she snarls and marches away. Dick resigns himself to nursing the half cup of coffee he has left because he has a feeling anything else he orders will be mostly spit. 

“Gee, I wonder what’s up with her.” 

“Jason.” 

Jason looks over at Dick, his eyes huge, gnawing slightly on his bottom lip, the picture of innocence. Dick wants to slug him. He wants to feel Jason’s nose crunch beneath his fist, the blood –

A loud trilling rises up from Brontë, who Jason had just set in the baby chair. It was a sound Dick was unfortunately, intimately, familiar with. She’d made the same noise every. single. time Dick and Bruce or Bruce and Jason or Bruce and Tim had ever fought or Dick had been even slightly unkind to Jason, even in his own fucking thoughts. Brontë hated conflict, but Dick guessed she loved Jason more because she’d decide to be a (former) murder-Pokémon working with a (“reformed”) psychopath. 

She trilled even louder. Jason frowned at Dick, something like hurt in his eyes. 

“Sorry,” he grits out, directing it more towards Brontë than Jason. Brontë, who Jason has apparently decided to disguise by putting her in a fucking red hoodie with a child’s Gotham Knights beanie. She looks adorable. Dick fucking hates it. 

“That’s a fucking shitty disguise, Jason. You can still tell she’s an alternate color.” 

Jason pouts. “It’s not a disguise, she’s just gets cold.” 

“Maybe it’s the ghost floating around,” Dick said, irritated, deciding that yes, actually his ears were cold enough now to say something about it. Actually, for good measure – he glares at the Arbok that had _somehow_ coiled itself neatly into the booth around Jason, who was likely the biggest problem the waitress had had considering it was almost _10 feet_ long, and then turned his head, Swoopsy swaying precariously, to glare at the Mightyena that had decided to sit in the booth next to him. It glares back. Dick keeps glaring. He’s faced down much more dangerous people and things than some league Mightyena who he was fairly sure wouldn’t bite him. 

“Stop the stupid staring match with Pacheco, Dick. You’re not gonna win. And Pepita isn’t making Brontë cold, it’s just fucking November. And I didn’t come here to listen to you complain again about my Pokémon.” 

“And I didn’t come here to get my ears frozen off by a squash.” Or to see you, Dick thought very, very quietly. Jason rolled his eyes, and Dick felt the chill recede as Jason’s Pumpkaboo floated over to the corner where the Arbok’s head was. Dick refused to remember their names. It was a matter of principle. 

“If you want, I can get Lapochka out and she can warm you up,” Jason said dryly, tapping an ultra-ball in his holster. Dick felt white noise fill his ears as he tried to figure out how quickly he could get Skarn out. His holster was on the mightyena’s side, would it still bite at him if he moved slow enough or should he just go fast – “That was a fucking joke, Dick.” Jason’s frown is back and yeah, he’s clearly upset, but whatever. The Cinderace isn’t a fucking joke. It’ll be years before any of them can hear something like that and take it as a joke, except Damian and maybe Tim, who has the self-preservation instincts of a fucking lemming. Bruce would’ve had Coconut freeze Jason the minute “Lapochka” was out of his mouth, so Dick thinks he’s doing fine, comparatively. 

“Whatever. I came here for an actual reason, not, once again,” his frown got deeper, “to hear you complain about my Pokémon. I’m here about your dumbass brothers.” 

There is a slight expectance in Jason’s eyes, peeking out behind the anger and hurt, so Dick loosens his jaw, shelves the Cinderace for later, and says “And what is wrong with _our_ brothers?” 

“Damian’s gonna try to kill Tim again,” Jason says promptly and cheerfully, like a switch had been flipped. “And maybe me, though probably not. But definitely Tim.” 

Dick very carefully takes a sip of his coffee. “What did Tim do now that’s set him off?” 

Jason grinned. “It’s not really what Tim did. It’s what dear old Granddad did.” 

“…what could Alfred possibly do to set—”

“Wrong grandpa!” Jason says it in a sing-song way, his smile still bright. It was the sort of smile he wore to deliver terrible news. Like the fact they apparently had another grandfather somewhere. Dick rolls his eyes. 

“Okay, sure, whatever, what did ‘dear old Grandad’ do then?” 

“Well, it’s a long story…I’m not sure we’ve got the time,” Jason checks his wrist, conspicuously absent of any sort of time telling device, his lips pursed in faux concern. Dick sighs heavily. 

“We’re both unemployed. I think we can spare a few minutes.” 

“If you’re sure!” Jason reaches into his jacket and Dick didn’t tense. Swoopsy wouldn’t still be on his head if Jason was about to shoot him. He hopes. Jason pulls out a flask, because he was a _walking cliché_, and waves it towards Dick. He shakes his head and Jason shrugs. Goes ahead an unscrews the cap. Dick takes another sip of coffee and wonder if he should believe anything that was about to come out of Jason’s mouth or if it was all going to be twisted half-truths meant to rile him up. He glances at Brontë, who was delicately eating some treats Dick hadn’t noticed Jason putting out. 

Then he looks back over. She was eating Tim’s treats, the ones he specialty ordered from a high-end Pokébakery in Star City. Dick felt his gut clench. It had been well over a year since Tim had stuck around Dick long enough to offer Skarn or Starlight some. Dick wasn’t even sure if he still ordered the rock blend. 

There’s was a thunk as Jason set his flask down on the table. Dick redirects his attention to him, pushing aside the mess the Tim and he were. Putting it on the same shelf as the fucking Cinderace, he thought grimly. 

“So, I get back from space, right? Don’t bother asking what I was doing, we really don’t have time for that, and honestly, you wouldn’t approve,” Dick feels the beginnings of a headache. “but the point is I’m back in Gotham after a long, tiring mission. It’s time to kick back, have a little r&r. You got me?” He pauses. 

Apparently this story is gonna require audience participation. “You’ve just gotten back in Gotham from a mission in space where you killed a bunch of sentient beings and you want to take a nap, I’m following you so far.” 

“I wouldn’t say a bunch, but yes, that’s the gist of it. I was tired. Had to be around people, most of the time the crew was all cooped up in their ‘balls” –cooped up except for when I had them out killing people, Dick mentally fills in. Not that it matters. As long as it doesn’t happen in Gotham or right in front of the Justice League, Bruce has decided it doesn’t count. Jason’s special like that. “But now I’m back home, so I head to the biggest safehouse I got, and let ‘em free. Catch up on some TV, make a lasagna, try this treat recipe for poison types that did not work out, let me tell you, Aubergine was not happy –” 

Dick was gonna kill him. “Please get to the point.” 

“And then! Replacement calls me, and I ignore it, because I’m relaxing you know, but Brontë here decides to play the voicemail out loud because she still likes the kid or something and he’s all ‘blah blah can’t believe you’ve been back for a week and not checked in blah blah something about some gangs and a territory shift blah blah and then he read off the address of the safe house I was in, so of course I immediately get Brontë to teleport us all to a different safe house, but I felt a little bad – after all, Replacement’s just had Bruce and Damian to help out, so I figure, what the hell, might as well go figure out what the gang stuff he mentioned so I—”

“Call him? Please tell me you called Tim like a normal person.” Jason absolutely did not call Tim, but Dick desperately needed him to take a breath. 

“Of course not, why would I? It’s much easier to just go figure it out myself, get the lay of the land, so me, Brontë, Aubergine and – anyways we had a bit of a ramble, and who should we find at the end of it, but Red Robin! So of course, we’ve got to have a little battle!” More like Austen had picked up on Tim’s irritation and tried to electrocute Jason and his team. “Timmy’s the only one of you with a proper team, cuz I’m not counting Damian’s menagerie or the teams of ‘bats. So his Boom pretty much smashed us all across the roof,” Yup. “and he throws out Sprite, so of course Brontë goes right after him.” Jason gives her a fond look. She’s still eating Tim’s treats. 

“But Boom’s still out too, so I –” Jason hesitates for just a second, “had Aubergine bind him up, and she knocks him out for the count.” The hesitation caught Dick’s attention. Jason almost never sends out his Arbok against Austen, he uses it against Ursula usually. It’s normally—Dick pauses. He doesn’t know. Whenever Tim ranted about his battles with Jason, he usually didn’t mention Austen. Dick’s never thought about it before. His gut clenches again. Dick hadn’t thought Jason would use the Cinderace against _Tim_, but god, what else would explain that pause? And of course Tim would never bring it up, he was too –

“And so he pops Boom back in, Brontë is still giving Sprite a hard time, and so he sends out _Fluffy_, and by the way, can I just say what fucking stupid names those are, like, Replacement needs some help, Jesus,” 

“They’re just codenames, not the actual names, Jason – wait, Fluffy?” 

“Codenames?!? What?? Then what the fuck are their names?!?” 

Dick stares blankly at Jason, who definitely looks hurt now. Fuck. Fuck. Tim is going to kill him. 

“Um. That’s, uh, probably a question for Tim. He’s been using the same codenames since, um, he started. Bruce had him do it, just like me with Skarn and Starlight.” He keeps his eyes on Jason, pointedly not looking at Brontë. Bruce had forbidden her involvement in the field because of her alternate color. It had been something of a sore spot, especially when Skarn had evolved, and Dick had just put dye in his hair and kept using him. 

Jason scoffs. “Of course Bruce did. The streets are just full of Grimmsnarls and Toxtricities, so a little name change is all that’s needed there!” He rolls his eyes. 

“Sprite was a Morgrem, actually, so the streets were full of them.” 

“For fuck’s sake, just use their real names. Like Tim will care, he probably just got stuck in bat mode. What’s the fucking harm in me knowing, huh?” 

_Tim named almost all his pokémon based on what book he saw you reading last as Robin and he’s still moderately terrified of you finding out and thinking he’s a giant weirdo_, Dick thought. But it’s not like he can say that. Dick stares at Jason. Jason and his Pokémon stares back. Swoopsy snores. Dick grimaces. 

“There’s no harm in it, Jason. Sprite’s name is Jackson. Boom is Austen. But I don’t remember anything about a Fluffy, so you’re going to have to ask Tim yourself.” Please, please get back to what you came here to tell me, and drop the name thing, Dick prayed. 

“Jackson and Austen? Was he naming them out of a baby names book?” Jason sounded slightly incredulous. “Jesus, Boom and Sprite might have been better. What about the Jigglypuff? His coffee Alcremie?” 

“Um. Ursula and Cortado.” Cortado was safe. “And Rotom’s just Rotom.” There was a very heavy silence. 

“Tim’s a Little Mermaid fan, huh?” Jason said very carefully, watching Dick’s face. 

“Uh. Yes?” Tim, please forgive me. “Yes. He loved it when he was younger.” 

“Weird. I thought Tim hated Disney.” Shit. Shit. Shit. Tim did hate most Disney films. There had been a solid week of rage when Disney had purchased Lucasfilm. 

“He likes the original story, the Norwegian one—” “it’s Danish” “—and it’s not important, really—”

“Did he give the ‘bats codenames too? I bet he fucking did, got them all confused, and fucking abandoned them since he never uses them now—”

“Tim hardly ever used any of the ‘bats when he was Robin.” Dick said firmly. “He only ever warmed up to a few, but what’s important right now is what you came here to tell me, so please, let’s just—"

“Did you stop letting him use the ‘bats when you fired him?” 

“What? Why- what, why would you think that? Jason, that’s not even,” Dick shook his head trying to figure out how they had ended up here and suddenly realized they were sitting in a _diner_ in _Bludhaven_. Good God. “Jason, we can’t fucking discuss this here, are you insane?” 

Jason gave him an unimpressed look, and nodded towards Brontë. She trilled. Dick realized there was a slight shimmer in the air and the waitress hadn’t been over in ages. Right. 

“Right.” Dick closed his eyes. Forget Damian trying to kill Tim, Tim was actually going to kill Dick. “Right. When I said a few, I really only meant one.” 

Jason frowned. “And that’s not an option anymore because what, it retired or some shit?” 

Retired to be a murder-pokémon, Dick thought, feeling slightly hysteric. 

“Yup. She’s really enjoying her retirement, I’m sure.” Jason looked at Dick for a long second and then his eyes slowly dragged up to Swoopsy. His frown deepened. Tim was never ever going to trust Dick again. 

“Anyways,” Dick was scrambling now, desperate. “Damian’s trying to kill Tim because of something named Fluffy?” 

Jason was still frowning at Swoopsy, his hand idly stroking the Arbok. “Yeah. Fluffy’s an Altaria-” What. “and so I sent out Dante, who’s evolved-” What. “-so we had an Altaria and a Dragapult, so Tim thought it’d be hilarious to call over Damian, since his dreepy is still, ya know, a dreepy, and he got super angry and it was hilarious. Only one?” 

What? “What? One of what? Dragapult? ALTARIA?” 

“Only one of the ‘bats liked him?” Dick winced. 

“All the ‘bats liked him, Jason. He just only ever used one to battle. He said it was better like that. Can we please go back to the fact the Tim has an Altaria? Where did he get one of those? There are only a few flocks in the world!” 

Jason refocused back on Dick. “Oh, yeah. That’s part of why Damian was so pissed. He’d wanted one too, but could never find one. I told him he should’ve gone to Russia, there are a shit ton there. But he wanted a league one, same breeding line as Ra’s’.” 

Dick felt his heart sink. “Ra’s? al Ghul?” 

Jason was suddenly grinning again. “Yup. Dear old Granddad. Guessing you didn’t know where Replacement spent his gap year, huh?” Dick wanted to punch him in the face. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jason’s brain is currently bouncing between ‘Tim stole my Swoopsy!’ and ‘I stole his Swoopsy!’ 
> 
> Only League Altaria can mega-evolve bc (dundundun I’ve decided now) the Lazarus pit is what triggers Mega-evolution in dragon types! Including the pits themselves and people who have been dunked in them. So basically if Tim wants Beatrice to mega-evolve, he’s gonna have to yeet Jason or Ra’s at her.


End file.
